Just Another Love Story
by BrunetteBeliever
Summary: The course of Harry and Draco's relationship told through Harry's eyes. HD


Just Another Love Story

By: BrunetteBeliever

Rated: M

Summary: The course of Harry and Draco's relationship told through Harry's eyes. H/D

A/N: I posted this story a while ago on a different site under a different name. Since joining here, I thought I'd post some of my old stuff and see how people like it. Enjoy. J

You hide behind the ideals of your upbringing. Looking at me with contempt in your shining eyes and pretending the mark on your fathers arm, and someday yours, gives you some kind of right to hate me. If I hadn't heard those damned words I might actually believe your many masks and lies.

You walk around here as if you are some kind of god and perhaps you are. Talking to people as if they are mud on your boots and repeating harsh insults and truths until even I want to punch you in the face. Either way, you're an idiot. To think you're that important. To join him. To give up your whole future. To believe your father's stories. To let me go.

You look at me when you think no one is watching. At first I thought you were trying to find some hidden weakness or flaw or to just embarrass me further by constantly scrutinizing me. I'd feel your eyes burning into me and feel the heat rise up in my face. In Potions class. Hallways. During meal times. Even when we faced each other in Quidditch. I hated it. The constant scrutiny and evaluation. I hated it. Until you told me you just thought I was beautiful.

You once asked Ron if he'd ever fucked me. I remember the way his eyes had widened and his fists had clenched. He was already in a rage after hearing more filthy lies about Hermione, but for you to question our friendship and, more importantly, his sexuality was beyond unacceptable. You sported that black eye for the next week with a smug smile. I suppose you figured you had your answer.

You never once told me your middle name. You never really said much of anything. It was always me talking. Rambling away about my latest detention with Snape or how I thought the ministry was failing us or that time when I was 6 and Dudley stole my ice cream cone at the park. You always just sat there with this little amused smile on your face. As if you'd found some funny new form of entertainment. As though you'd finally realized it was much easier to just listen to me than to fight.

You used to get angry when I'd tell you about my childhood. I suppose you thought even your worst enemy had no right to be mistreated by mere muggles. You'd rage on and on about the flaws and discrepancies of muggles until I'd finally forget the point you were trying to make and just tune you out. You hated muggles. I suppose my stories only made you hate them more. But after I told you about all the nice ones I knew, I got the impression it wasn't really all muggles you hated. Just the ones that had hurt me.

You held me that night I came to you in tears. Another lost friend and near death encounter just too much for my mortal soul. You cradled me to your chest and whispered soothing words into my hair. I wish I'd had the sense to pay attention to you then. Perhaps I would have had my answers a lot sooner if I'd just stopped sobbing and listened to what you were saying. We never mentioned that night again. I suppose I was embarrassed enough for the two of us. Though I still wondered what you whispered.

You kissed me when I first told you. Granted it took about the space of three heartbeats before you finally pulled me to you and kissed me. I was left breathless and you panting and repeating my name over and over again as if you couldn't quite get the whole thing in your head. You kissed me and I kissed you back and it wasn't until that group of second years walked in on us that I realized there was anyone else in the world besides us. I like to think about that kiss whenever you look at me now. That kiss as far as I'm concerned is all the proof I'll ever need because no one, and I repeat no one, could ever kiss another like that and feel nothing.

You made love to me when you came back from what I thought was the last meeting you would ever have with your father. You wrapped me in your arms and carried me to the bed and the next few hours were bliss. I'd never realized how gorgeous you really were until you were there above me. Gripping my hips and kissing my shoulder and moaning my name. I never really believed all the hype people made about sex until that night when you held me down and, for lack of a more romantic word, fucked me. When it was over you smiled at me and I said it again. You'd laughed, this beautiful, heart-warming laugh, and pulled me into you even further. 'I love you too.' I can still hear the words. I hear them over and over and over again. I'd give anything, anything to have that night back.

You didn't meet me in our usual spot on Mondays. That shady patch of grass under the giant oak tree that overlooks the lake. I waited there for you. I waited there for three god-damned hours. It wasn't until I saw you walking across the lawn with your arm around Pansy Parkinson and laughing that I finally left. I suppose that's when I first began to realize that I was losing you.

You wouldn't return my letters. You wouldn't look at me in the hallways. You wouldn't even sneer or laugh or fucking smirk when I called you a filthy, ugly git or tried to trip you on our way out of class. You'd just brush past me with this superior look on your face. As if you'd suddenly grown bored with our games and had moved onto something bigger and better.

You wouldn't look me in the eye that night I finally managed to corner you in the locker rooms after one of your practices. You wouldn't look me in the eye and I screamed at you and hit you. I just wanted to know what the hell was going on. Hadn't you ever loved me? When you finally did look me in the eye I hated myself for coming. I hated myself for asking questions that on some level I really already had the answers to. I told you that I loved you. I told you the truth. And then you'd suddenly gotten angry and pushed me against the wall and told me that I had no right, no reason to come into your life and screw everything up. I'd finally started to cry. You laughed. Not that beautiful, heart-warming laugh, but that cruel, mocking one that I had once known so well. You laughed and said I was weak and stupid and just a good fuck. I remember the way you said it so well. I hear those words over and over and over again in my head. 'Just a good fuck. Just a good fuck. Just a good fuck.'

You're leaving in a few weeks after graduation. I've heard all the talk. They say you're going to join him. And I can't stop the tears that come when I think that the next time I see you might be on a battle field. This is all so stupid and I just want you to look at me. Is that so much to ask for? Just look at me one last time before you go.

I cried when Dumbledore told me. After you'd already gone. After it was already to late to stop you. A spy. I should have known. God, I should have known. He told me and I cried and broke things in his office and finally just dropped to the floor sobbing. A spy? No, it wasn't fair. I just wanted you to come back. You couldn't be a spy. You'd end up hardened and bitter like Snape. You'd come back and lock yourself up in some manor and I'd never see you again. I cried and screamed and broke Fawkes stand when he told me. But I didn't really start crying until he told me that you'd done it all for me. He just sat there and looked at me with pity in his eyes while I lay on the floor sobbing. 'He loves you Harry.' I had to take a few more gasping breaths for air before I was finally able to get out, 'I know'.

They gave you a medal and named a building after you once the war was finally over. Remus told me. By that point I hadn't seen you in over two years. It was only through Dumbledore that we had been able to correspond and I honestly think it was his strength that kept either of us from killing ourselves.

You didn't say anything when you first saw me. It was like in a movie or something. All slow motion and heartbreaking music. We were both supposed to be at a meeting for the Order and you'd just walked in. You looked tired and you're hair was a little longer, but god you were still gorgeous and your eyes were still all intense and you hadn't miraculously turned into Snape. You didn't see me at first. I'd sat there frozen just staring at you. The room had gone silent and suddenly you looked around and our eyes met. I think I actually heard you gasp, although it could have been Mrs. Weasley in the background. I stood up and you just stared at me. And then it was just us. I think I vaguely remember Mrs. Weasley mentioning crumb cake in the kitchen. By that point my eyes were wet and I kept opening and closing my mouth, not sure how to get into words everything that I wanted to say. And then suddenly there you were. All strong arms and warm breath. I was sobbing and clutching onto you. Part of me couldn't believe you were actually there. Part of me still expected to find you in some tag-less body bag in a morgue somewhere. But there you were and there I was. And we were actually both alive. I realized you were saying things. Things I couldn't make out. I finally pulled back and looked up at you and then it had all come so clear. Even after the letters back and forth for two years the first thing you said to me was 'I'm sorry'. And even though I'd read and reread the words over and over again a thousand times before, I still cried. I cried and kept saying that I loved you and then you were saying the words back to me and crying too. You were telling me that you loved me and crying. I don't think either of us really did anything else for the next few months.

You work for the Ministry now. You laugh, that beautiful, heart-warming laugh, and tell me to stop complaining about it because the Ministry's the one paying the rent. I still hate them. Though I suppose I'll always hate any form of organized power.

You still won't tell me your middle name. You say it's stupid and that I'll laugh, but I still keep asking you because part of me has to know. You still won't tell me about your family or your childhood or how you got that scar on your right arm or how long it will take for the mark to finally fade. You still won't tell me a lot of things. But that's okay for now, because you're a good listener.

You asked me one night if I believed in fate. I'd looked over at you in the pale moonlight and smiled. You still wouldn't tell me how you got the scar, but the mark was almost gone then so I wasn't really sure if I needed to know anymore. You asked me again when I didn't answer. But this time you weren't smiling. You were dead serious. 'Yes,' had been my murmured reply. You smiled. 'Yeah,' you'd said. 'Me too'.

You took me out to dinner on our anniversary. The war had been over for nearly five years at that time. You took me to the most expensive restaurant in town and my heart had been in my throat the entire time because I knew, I just knew, by the look in your eyes that you were going to ask me. We'd talked over dinner for nearly two hours and by the time dessert came around I was starting to get a bit impatient. And then you looked up at me and took my hand and I was positive that you were going to ask me. And instead you'd smiled and grasped my hand a bit firmer. 'My middle name is Lucius.' I looked at you surprised and then you'd pulled your hand away, leaving a small velvet box in my hand. I laughed. I actually laughed. I couldn't hold it back. 'Lucius,' I'd said, looking at the small box in my shaking hand and then back up to you. 'Draco Lucius Malfoy. I should have known.' You'd laughed too and asked a bit shakily if that was a yes. We both knew the answer to that and by the end of the night I had a new ring on my finger and you were leading me around the dance floor, swaying ever so slightly from all the wine, with the biggest grin I'd ever seen on your face.

You kissed me when I told you I was pregnant and swung me around in your arms. And you laughed when I told you we needed to buy a Firebolt 9000 for our six-week- old daughter. You cried when you told me how your father had given you that scar and that you'd never once stopped loving me throughout all of it. You kissed me and I loved so much more for all of it.

You still lead me around sometimes as if you're showing off a prize you've won. And I still catch you sneaking Mrs. Weasley's cookies every time I bring them home, even though you insist that you hate them. You still even laugh and tell our daughter that her Daddy thinks he knows how to fly a broom.

But you tell me everyday how much you love me. And I still have to catch my breath every time we kiss. And our daughter has your eyes and the way you look at me sometimes makes me want to cry. To think that I could have lost you to some stupid war that I didn't ever want to be a part of. You love me.

And I know your middle name and all about that time you turned your mother's hair purple and that you hate apples with a vengeance and you really like Mrs. Weasley's peanut butter cookies and you think our daughter is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and I love you. I love you so much more for all of it.

And I suppose, in the end, that's really all that matters.

Fin.

Please Review J


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